


Mistake

by Elfo98



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: A bit sad, Alternate Universe - High School, But I promise an happy ending, Homophobia, I'm Sorry, Janson is Newt's father, M/M, Thomas takes care of Newt, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7079413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfo98/pseuds/Elfo98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Newt, look at me.” He ordered, lifting his chin to meet his eyes. “Who did this?” <br/>There was a moment of hesitation, then the blonde opened his mouth and said in a voice so low that Thomas struggled to get the words, but when he did he gritted his teeth in rage: “M-My dad…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistake

_Two months._

Newt opened the door of his car keeping his head down, his jacket’s hood pulled up to cover his face. He just needed to reach his locker undetected and then go to class without any of his friends to see him. Ignoring the people whispering all around him, he kept up his pace until he was inside the school’s hallways, and then picked up his books for the first period and rushed to class before a certain boy with messy brown hair and chocolate doe eyes could reach him.

Newt didn’t want to avoid his best friend Thomas, he just didn’t want him to see what had happened to him the day before, sure that he would have asked a tone of questions. He wasn’t even sure about how to answer them: he’d been lying about the scratches that appeared on his face every week for what felt like decades, and maybe it really was. He’d usually say that he tripped, or that he crashed onto something, but knew that his friends didn’t believe him. And wondered how much it would take for them to realize what the real matter was.

It was all his fault, really. His crime was basically being gay. He wasn’t out at school, in fact not many did know about his little secret, just his most trusted friends, like Thomas or Minho or Teresa or… well, all the gang, since they saw him flirting with a guy in a pub one day, when they were all out celebrating something that Newt couldn’t actually remember. Maybe it was just something silly, it happened sometimes with them.

But they never judged him, at all. The real problem was his father who, since the divorce with his mother, had started beating the living shit out of him whenever he wanted… especially when he was drunk, which was actually every day. But what could Newt do, aside of trying to avoid him as best as he could? Run away? Where would he even go? Besides… maybe his dad was right, maybe he was a mistake. Maybe he deserved some violence.

But even if he was wrong, he couldn’t tell anybody. It was Janson’s word against his, he didn’t stand a chance. So he just had to endure it and make it to his graduation, and then he could fly to college and never come back.

Yep, that was the plan.

A stupid, dangerous plan, but still… what choice did he have?

He sat at one of the desks at the back of the classroom, hoping no one would notice him, and focused on the lecture. Basically the whole morning went on like this, with him avoiding every conversation or gaze, waiting for it to end. Fortunately he’d always been a straight A student, so none of his teachers paid attention to him. His problems started at lunch. He didn’t want to seat with his friends, he hoped he could get to the food and take it before they could even see him, but it was obviously too much to ask.

“Newt!” Thomas yelled from their usual table as soon as he entered the cafeteria; he tried to act as if he didn’t hear him, but the boy was next to him in a second. “Hey, Shank. What’s the matter with you? You’ve been running away from me all morning.”

The blonde instinctively lowered his head as he answered: “Sorry, Tommy. It’s just… I didn’t feel so good” he knew his trembling voice had probably betrayed him. But he tried to shrug like nothing was wrong. Of course he couldn’t fool his best friend: “What happened to your face?”

“I… I fell” he lied. Again. And felt bad for that.

With his surprise, Thomas grabbed his arm and led him out of the room full of students to an empty spot next to the lockers, then gently pulled his hood down and took his face in his hands, studying it with his  puppy eyes full of concern. Newt could feel the heat rise up to his ears and himself blushing, both of embarrassment and nervousness, and refused to look back at him. He started biting his bottom lip where he had a scratch that opened again almost immediately, and felt the metallic taste of the blood in his mouth… and then a finger trying to wipe it away.

Newt looked up to meet the brunet’s gaze, where he saw a mixture of emotions: from worry to fondness and anger. He knew what was coming next.

“You can’t fall and hurt yourself like this” Thomas pointed to the different bruises on his face and his swollen, black eye. Then put an hand on his shoulder, making the boy flinch in response, which he regretted instantly. “Come on, buddy. I’m your best friend… are you being bullied?”

_Yes!_ He wanted to scream. _By my dad. By the man who should take care of me, and understand me, and stand by me._

But instead he kept quiet, trying to come up with a better excuse. Three years, he’d been living like this. He was trapped in his own shell.

“Newt…” Thomas stared at him, as if he could read his mind and, for a moment, the blonde hoped he would understand on his own. “Please, talk to me. You’ve been distant all month, it’s like you don’t want me around anymore. Was it something I did?” his voice had softened, pleading.

“I…” Newt hesitated. He was about to spill everything. “I’m sorry. I started boxing, that’s why I always come at school injured” he tore his eyes away, closing them in regret for the new lie. He could not go on like this.

Thomas’ eyebrows furrowed: “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I know you don’t like violence, and you would have started complaining”

That was probably the worst lie ever: if he really was playing boxe, then he would have had at least some muscle. Instead he was all bones, and he was sure he’d lost weight in the past two months.

“I don’t believe you” the boy replied in fact, taking a step back with a scowl on his face.

_Of course you don’t, you shuckface. I don’t believe myself either._

“I don’t know why you’re lying, but I’m gonna figure it out, trust me. And then we will have a nice chat” and with that he turned and walked back to the cafeteria where the others were waiting. Newt stood there, watching him until he disappeared into the room, before pulling his hood up again and taking the opposite way. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

He walked out of the school straight to his car and hopped in, pulling out of the parking lot to run away from Thomas, from his friends, from his teachers, and from the people’s laughter.  

 

* * *

 

It was almost ten in the evening when he got home; he’d spent the rest of the day at the park, hidden from everyone on a tree, watching the people pass by unaware of his presence. He usually went there after school, to wait until his father was passed out on the couch, too drunk to notice him entering the front door. He would sneak into the kitchen and grab something to eat, then lock himself up in his room to do his homework and then go to sleep, sometimes without even change clothes. It was the best way to avoid being beaten up, at least during the week. Things got difficult on Saturdays and  Sundays, when they were both home: that’s when he got most of his scratches.

Today, however, as soon as he opened the door, he understood that his father was still awake and was waiting for him to come home. His body started shaking as the realization hit him, and Newt tried to move towards the stairs without making a sound. He’d almost reached them, when Janson’s voice roared in the hallway: “Where have you been?”

The boy turned to face the man, a tall and intimidating figure with the face similar to a rat’s, eyebrows furrowed in a scowl and a bottle of beer in his left hand. He was drunk again and Newt was in big trouble, he didn’t know if he could bare being hit once more after yesterday.

“W-With… Tommy… Thomas. Y-You know him, right?” it was the first thing that came to mind, but as soon as he said it he knew he could’ve picked up a better excuse. He started moving backwards until his back met the walls, fear rising up at the sight of the raging man in front of him.

“Really?” he spat. “You ditched school together so you could do your faggot things?”

“W-What?” his eyes widened. “T-Tommy is straight.”

_Tommy is straight._ He repeated to himself, because no matter how much he wanted it to be the other way round, it was true. He’d had a crush on his friend for over four years, but knew he didn’t stand a bloody chance. Why would his father come up with this?

“I swear… we didn’t do anything” he pleaded.

“Don’t lie to me!” Janson threw the bottle of beer at him, who covered his face and lowered his head to avoid it. He heard it crashing onto the wall spilling his content on the boy’s hair. Soon after he heard another noise next to him, and knew that his father was right in front of him because of the smell of alcohol coming out of his mouth. He waited for him to punch him, but nothing came.

“How could I raise such abomination?” the man growled, grabbing him by his arms and pushing him hard against the wall. A loud sob escaped him when his head hit it, more because of fear than pain. “You are a mistake, Newt Isaacs. Your mother ran away because of _you_ , because she couldn’t look at your face without seeing the demon that lies in you.”

The boy stood still as his father punched him multiple times in the face, and kicked him in his stomach. Only after he hit his already injured leg he fell on the ground, screaming in pain. He tried to reach for it, but the man kept hurting him, beating him everywhere. He’d never done that before, he’d never crossed the line; usually, he just punched him once or twice and then let him go. But now… it was like he wanted to kill him.

“You took everything from me. My wife, my son! And still you dare come back here, and you dare go out with that gay boyfriend of yours.” The man kept yelling and kicking, out of control. Newt wished some of their neighbors would hear and help him, before it was too late. But then Janson stopped and he thought that maybe he was free to go. He started crawling towards the stairs, every inch of his body aching and bleeding: he was pretty sure his nose was broken, just as his left arm and some of his ribs, not to mention his leg. His swollen face was covered in tears and blood.

He was halfway up the stairs, when he felt the strong hands grabbing him again and, before he knew it, he was rolling back down, his head hitting the steps. He curled up in a ball once he stopped moving, sobbing and gasping for air.

“You’re a pussy,” the man said at last, spitting those words with disgust. Then he just left, slamming the door shut and leaving his son, his only child, there, crying and wishing he would just kill him.

 

* * *

 

Newt didn’t know how much had passed, maybe five or ten minutes, maybe an hour. He stayed there until the pain started decreasing slightly and the head stopped spinning. Then he got up to his feet limping up to his bedroom; he picked up his backpack and grabbed some clothes and the essential,  along with some money, before going back to the hall and out of the house.

Making sure no one was there, he hid his face under his hood once again and started walking, not without struggle, towards the only safe place he knew. He tried to focus on the street instead of thinking about what had happened, even if his body kept reminding him.

Shuck, he was freezing. But he was hundred percent sure it wasn’t cold when he’d come home.

_Home…_

It wasn’t his home anymore. Nor was his dad. It was just him, alone.

Twenty minutes later he was right in front of the main door of the Edison’s. Newt knocked hoping they could help him and wouldn’t reject him for who he was. They were the only people left he could trust.

A woman with brown hair and a gentle smile opened the door, though she seemed confused to see him there that late. “Newt! It’s so good to see you, but shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s almost midnight” she said, her eyebrows furrowed in worry just like her son did. The blonde stood there for a minute, trying to make the words come out of his mouth, but as soon as a small sound escaped his lips he started crying again. The woman immediately took him in her arms in a warm embrace, as his body shook against hers and his loud sobs echoed in the house.

“Mom? What’s happening?” A voice reached them as Thomas came down the stairs, probably woken up by the noise since his voice was still sleepy. But as soon as his eyes met the small figure of the boy, he rushed forward until he was right next to them. “Oh my God, Newt… you’re bleeding…” The brunet looked at his mother, silently telling her to let him go so he could take care of him, then reached out to gently put an arm around the boy’s waist and led him to the couch, ignoring the way he flinched at the touch.

He sat beside him and, when he removed Newt’s jacket, he froze in horror: there were bruises everywhere and his face was covered in blood, old and new. “Who did this to you?” he whispered, anger and concern evident in his voice. Who could do such a thing to an angel like Newt? He’d make them pay for hurting his best friend. “Newt, look at me.” He ordered, lifting his chin to meet his eyes. “Who did this?”

There was a moment of hesitation, then the blonde opened his mouth and said in a voice so low that Thomas struggled to get the words, but when he did he gritted his teeth in rage: “M-My dad…”

That shucking bastard! He knew he was bad, he just didn’t know how much. The guy had changed since the divorce, but Thomas would have never imagined this.

His mother came back with some bandages and some wet towel that Thomas grabbed to wipe away the blood. He gently placed an hand on Newt’s neck and slowly ran the towel on his skin. The boy hissed. “Sorry, this is gonna hurt a bit” The brunet apologized, without moving his eyes away from his friend’s. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t be angry with him for not telling him the truth when all that had started; he would have probably been scared too. “All these years… he was beating you, and you didn’t say anything. We could have helped you.” He said softly, carefully cleaning the blood away from under his nose. Seeing his best friend like this was making his heart ache. And who knew what else the slinthead did.

“It was his word against mine…” the blonde answered between the sobs.

“But I would have done something” he replied. “God, Newt… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I had thought you were avoiding me, and you were suffering instead, and I didn’t do anything.”

An hand came up to caress his cheek, gently but with hesitation, as if Newt wasn’t sure about what to do. “It wasn’t your fault. It was me who pushed you away.”

For a long moment they just looked at each other, Thomas’ heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t realize that he’d stopped moving his hand until the other cleared his throat and draw his attention on his own hands. Thomas tried not to think about how the space between had decreased, and got back to work until there wasn’t so much blood left.

“Did he hit you elsewhere?” he asked then. He was aware of his mother watching them from the kitchen, while she was preparing them some tea. He wondered what she was thinking of them, sitting so close to each other, even if he was just helping Newt.

“I think my ribs and my left arm are broken, and he hit my leg too” Newt said, his voice shaky, as he pulled off his t-shirt. He watched embarrassed while his friend’s doe eyes grew wide, seeing all the countless bruises he had. And his breath itched when Thomas placed an hand on his chest, tracing once of his old scars with a finger. That’s why he never wanted him to see his torso, because there were just too many evidences of his lost battles against Janson.

“I’m gonna kill that man” the boy growled, moving his hand away to take the bandages and then started to put them around his body. “We’re going to have to take you to the hospital, tomorrow. But this will do, for tonight.”

Newt just stared at him, his love for the boy growing stronger each passing minute, seeing him taking care of him like that. And it didn’t matter that his dad had beaten him because of Thomas, he wasn’t afraid to say it: he was _head over heels_ for Thomas. And he was _gay_.

“I don’t want to go back there…” he found himself saying, loud enough for the other to hear it.

Thomas looked up, straightening himself until their eyes met properly again. And then did something that Newt wasn’t sure if he’d just imagined it, at first: Thomas kissed him. Softly and slowly, his thumb tracing circles on his cheek. Newt froze on the spot for a second, eyes wide in surprise, but then melted into the kiss and put an arm around the other’s waist to pull him closer, lips parting. And in that moment he forgot about his aching body, pressing it against the brunet’s, caring only for the two of them while jolts of electricity ran down his spine.

He was pretty sure that he was passed out on the sofa and was dreaming all of this, so he didn’t want it to end. But at the same time, it all felt so real, so unbelievably real, and Newt couldn’t help but feel joy despite all that had happened just an hour before.

So when they parted, lips swollen and heavy breaths, he searched for Thomas’ eyes to verify that it wasn’t just fruit of his imagination.

The brunet smiled at him, placing his forehead against the blonde’s. “You’re staying here” he said, “with me.”

And Newt sighed in relief. Yes, the future seemed scary and dark, anything could happen in two months. There still was a lot to do -going to the hospital to begin with- and they would have had to deal with Janson… but for now, while so close to his best friend, he let himself breathe.

Because he _loved_ Thomas. And he was _gay_. And okay, maybe there was something wrong with him, but right now, right there, he decided that he couldn’t care less.

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you think? :)


End file.
